


we were film reels and polaroids

by mysophobe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, That's it, it's just angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26681518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysophobe/pseuds/mysophobe
Summary: Oikawa Tooru looks back on their lives in photographs.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	we were film reels and polaroids

Oikawa Tooru never thought it would end up this way. not when he was 18—young and stupid, that is. at that age, all he could ever think about was how his lips were the perfect height to steal random kisses along Hajime's hairline. how the man in question—in all his brutish and spiky-haired glory—would darken a couple shades of red over the next few seconds and swat away at him as if he wanted Tooru to put distance between them. how Hajime would actually, behind their backs, reach for his hand and clasp it with his own.

at that age, all Tooru fixated on was how his fingers slotted perfectly between Hajime's and he couldn't ever see anyone else's hand complementing his the way Hajime's did. 

but here he was, carrying a stack of about ten albums and photo books of his—no—their childhood, their adolescence, their teenage years all arranged and compiled like a series of stills for a full-length movie. his feet were careful as they treaded the stairs, descending the familiar wooden planks of his childhood home. he noticed that he had grown big enough now that the parallel walls of the narrow corridor would occasionally brush against his deltoids. 

no one else was home with him right now. his mother, his older sister, and his nephew were all out shopping for some last-minute additions to the gathering they were about to hold in the joint backyard that the Iwaizumis and the Oikawas had. Tooru knew his mother was rather particular when it comes to her groceries, so he knew he had time. he gently transferred the stack of albums from his arms to the center table in the living room, employing the sunlight streaming through the window to bathe the room with a faint yellow glow. he slumped down on the couch across from the table and reached for the first book.

there was a note on the back of the cover, in the familiar scribble of Hajime's mother. he knew because he has seen, throughout his entire lifetime, enough post-it notes plastered onto a refrigerator door to know how she wrote her sentences with prominent loops and perfectly even lines. the note had plenty of exclamation points as it said 'Hajime-kun came out first!!!'. Oikawa couldn't help but smile. even 25 years ago, Iwaizumi Hana was as bubbly a mother as ever. 

Tooru was familiar with how the albums contained time ranges: every album covered two years of his and Haijime's lives. naturally, the first page contained nothing but the other male's infant pictures. Tooru's very own didn't show up until the second page. 

by the time he was halfway through the first book, fondness had overwritten the walls of his heart. their parents had always been close. the pictures that littered the insides of the book contained more joint photos than ones that was taken of them individually. Tooru's mom liked dressing them up and it showed in the way Tooru always sported the most stylish of clothes. 

by the third book, Iwa-chan and his beloved net were already inseparable. Hajime was addicted to bugs. so addicted with them he literally had an entire tank of the different beetles that he had caught. Tooru, as a child, hated looking at that thing. he wasn't particularly fond of the creepy crawlies, but he liked spending time with his best friend. if running around in the dirt and acquiring gashes on his knees and elbows was the best way to spend time with Hajime, then young Tooru would do it without hesitation. he was in stitches as he browsed through the album, his laughter ringing out in the empty house. a majority of their pictures were completely wack, considering how they were children who literally had not a single calm cell in their bodies. there were some snapshots that had blurred portions, some that showed Oikawa's face red with snot and tears. it was a whole whirlwind of the peak of their childhood and Tooru couldn't help the warmth that bloomed in his chest.

the seventh book introduced present Oikawa to the pair as newbies to volleyball. Tooru couldn't even position his arms properly for an underhand receive, much less place them up high above his head for a brilliant toss. it was somehow... nostalgic. he gets to watch himself and Iwaizumi's progress. albeit plenty slow, it was still progress. a few pages later, he was already seeing his first major loss. 

losing was something Tooru was very familiar to. sometimes, during those days when he's at his lowest, he would still taste the bitter tang of defeat, every single one of them throughout his career, like a persistent lump in his throat. Tooru was familiar with it, but that doesn't mean he's used to it. every new loss is a painful dagger to his chest. yet no match has ever pierced his heart as painfully as losing Iwaizumi Hajime. 

the previous warmth that occupied his ribcage turned sour, cold. like flowers decaying in fast forward, his chest turned into a bottomless void.

from the eighth book onwards was high school Iwaizumi and Oikawa. he knew that, so as he clutched the book in his hand, he heaved a deep sigh. he didn't have wounds anymore. their parting was probably the best closure to a chapter that everyone else could only hope for. they were still friends now. they were still best friends. but sometimes... there's a phantom feeling. like a ghost of the pain lingering just below scar tissue, threatening to burst out, and hurt Tooru once more. if he opens this book, he just knew he would hurt all over again. 

he also knew he had to face and acknowledge the pain in order to fully let go. he has to. for Hajime.

he peeled the book open and what greeted him was a polaroid. it was the two of them, cheeks squashed together, the background Tooru's room as they smiled at the camera. Oikawa received it as a gift from his sister when he was 16. the first thing he did was take a photo with Iwaizumi. to commemorate, he had said. Tooru's fingers went up to the photo to caress the film, his chest growing heavier and heavier by the second. 

he knew that the rest of the books contained photos that they had taken by themselves. seeing their relationship in the perspective of an innocent camera years later would be something new. so with eyes brimming with tears that remained unshed for the majority of the past decade, he turned the page.

they never really put a label to what they had; they never really felt like they had to. they were born two parts of a whole, and they were stupid to believe that it was enough identification for what they had, that it was enough to make it last.

he spies a photo of Hajime with his back against the camera, Tooru being the one manning it. the spiky-haired lad was pointing at a far distance, up in the clouds where only the navy blues of the night sky, accompanied by twinkling yellows of stars, could be seen. in Tooru's writing, words were scribbled in faint black ink at the bottom left corner of the polaroid: 'you and the space. my loves'. 

he was only halfway through the ninth book when the front door burst open. Takeru's familiar cackle drifted into the house and made Tooru jump. like a deer caught in headlights, he stared at them. they stared back. a few seconds ticked by before his sister was already ushering her son out of the room and up the stairs, her own footsteps only a small distance behind him. his mother, on the other hand, had an indecipherable look on her face. with practiced ease and sophistication, she slipped off her shoes, locked the door and trudged to him. she sat behind him and reached over her head to tuck his body into her embrace. 

Tooru was a whole foot taller than his mother. but as he broke down in heavy tears, he felt like he was a child once again, with boo boos on his knees that hurt far too much for it to be healed just by magic water. he thrived in her warmth, the motherly comfort that only she could give to him as he wailed. his own chest felt like it was trying to rip him apart as his sobs wracked his entire body, his hands clutching the front of his mother's shirt. he kept repeating one word. only one word, yet it was enough explanation for his mother to know why he was being the way he was.

"Iwa-chan," he cried, his sobs a cascade as he poured it all out, repeating the nickname like a chant.

when Iwaizumi moved to California before he himself could even get to Argentina, he didn't cry. when he received the news that Hajime was dating someone new, he didn't cry. when the invitation that formally invited him to their wedding arrived in his doorstep, he didn't cry. when he saw them for the first time, hand-in-hand and looking like the happiest, most perfect couple to grace the earth, he didn't cry.

but as he looked back into the reel of their entire lifetime, how was he supposed to stop the dam from overflowing?

Tooru's wasn't sure if he was allowed to refer to the man as a past lover. he wasn't sure if he even ever had his Iwa-chan fully in his grasp. what he knew for sure, though, was that he lost him.

Hajime had stepped too far away and Oikawa could only fixate on the sight of someone else's more dainty, more delicate fingers slotting perfectly between Hajime's own. he couldn't remove it in his head, the way her hand complemented Hajime's and clutched onto him the way Tooru used to. the way Tooru never would be able to again.


End file.
